


Tender Moments

by WrittenTales



Series: Dreamwidth BBC Musketeer Fills [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-05-31 02:56:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6452686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrittenTales/pseuds/WrittenTales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompt from dreamwidth, </p><p>Tough alpha Athos and courageous omega Aramis in day to day scenarios, filled with fluff and everything that could sever a bond never-ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Tough alpha athos being sweet and caring in a variety of situations to his omega aramis. The others find this both funny and endearing.  
> Day to day life scenarios either canon or modern au. Hurt comfort and fluff. Whatever the author wants really as long as it's athos/aramis with the others being betas.  
> \----  
> Yeah, this is just my take on that, and apologizes again, I didn't make Porthos and d'Artagnan betas :,(

Aramis was not one that was easily taken with expensive embroidery or the immense vanity that could suit the dear King Louis himself. Athos had always spared time to show Aramis how much he appreciated him, no matter the hour or how drained he felt. Aramis was a being that stood against life itself. His stubborn, free-of-burden mentality was characteristically innate to Aramis' nature, meanwhile giving Athos the incentive to breath again.

It had taken time, but Athos had grown more fond of his omega as the days molded into years. At first, Athos' difficulty in loving Aramis had brought much tribulation between the two, especially when they had first started out as a pair. Despite Aramis contradicting everything that Athos ever warned him about, he had come to accept it as a part of Aramis’ fiery spirit. Aceepting that he'll always have to keep a keener eye and to hold his tongue once in a while. Basically, they both played a tireless game of gatekeeper, Aramis as the lion that couldn’t be tamed despite how much life could lash out back at him.

Porthos and he were patrolling the streets of Paris, and he had passed by the florist cart many times before this day; he had even befriended the old woman who travelled frequently to different street corners during the day looking for business. But something had stopped him on this specific afternoon and his eye catches a particular flower, and his feet blindly carry him to the cart to give himself a closer look.

“Since when do you look at flowers?” Porthos sounds amused, the all higher-than-thou Athos taking time out of his day to check out weeds. Porthos didn’t think he would live to see the day.

Athos grumbled in response and before he turns to walk away, the old woman, Élise, had appeared from behind the cart, gracing both men with a smile and a curtsies. “Monsieur Athos and Monsieur Porthos, how nice of you to pay me a visit. I had forgotten to thank you for saving my day’s earning from thievery last week.” She goes to give both men a peck on the cheek, ever the lady.

A beta woman was taught from birth that Alphas were above their station, and that they were to be treated with the utmost respect. At least, that was the manner of how few families raised their young to be respectful to such a “savage” kind. The absence of hatred in this woman is what made Athos so fond of her, yet he didn’t particularly like to be passively treated more than he actually was.

“Madame Élise, pleasure it is to see you again, but rest assured that stopping thieves in their midst is only part of our duty.” Athos tips his hat and Porthos nods in agreement.

“But please, let me repay you for your kindness to both me and those poor children, with a flower for both your mates, free of charge. It was also most generous of you Musketeers to give the boys a few coins so that they wouldn’t have to go to bed hungry.” She smiled, her hands tending to the fragile plants before them.

“Please, Madam, we do not-“

“I insist.” Her look of demand made Athos and Porthos straighten up in their uniform.

“Well then, I’ll have the red rose.” Porthos said, pointing to the bright flower in all its magnificence, “It means Love, correct?”

“Deep love and affection, a very traditional choice.” She cuts the stem and hands it to the bulky Musketeer. “And you Monsieur Athos?”

Athos’ eyes shot back to the flower that had attracted his attention from the beginning, its soft hues of pink and purple were exotic and gentle and it had sharp thorns on its stem, more so than the rose...and for some reason, it all reminded him of Aramis. Gentle and kind, yet not an omega who was meant to be crossed. It may have been the most dangerous flower out of the bunch.

“Perhaps the rose will do.” Athos looked back to Elise with a slight frown that seemed to embedded itself into his face.

“Ah, but I saw your eye glancing at the gladiolus.” She squinted at Athos, but her fingers went to touch the pretty, wet petals. “It symbolizes strength of character, infatuation, remembrance, faithfulness, and honor. The romans used to cherish this particular flower, they believed it represented the swords of the gladiators.”

Athos looked away, glancing at his sword, but really, he was feeling the delightful hum of his mating mark on his shoulder, letting the happy, familiar emotions fill him, the memory of his mate’s scent caused goosebumps to rise on his skin. Aramis was all of those things and more, and to describe him as anything else would be a grave insult, and the day Athos would see him as something different would be the day that he impales himself with his own sword.

“I believe the very omega that holds your heart pierces it every day with love, do tell me if I am wrong in this assumption.” She cuts the pretty flower from its stem and hands it Athos.

Athos reveals a small smirk underneath his hat and he wraps his fingers around the delicate but fierce flower. “He is everything I could ever imagine.”

“That wonderful look of fresh, young love, embrace it fully, for however long it lasts.”

“Merci, Madame.”

“De rien, Musketeer.”

~*~*~

When their patrol is over, Porthos and Athos reach the garrison before sundown and Porthos pulls the rose from where it was resting inside his coat when he sees d’Artagnan. He had been helping Aramis set the mess hall but his youthful face broke into a brilliant, radiant look of joy at the sight of Porthos and accepted the rose with a long kiss. They were mumbling to themselves and so Athos had decided to leave them instead of wishing them goodnight.

“Mi amor.” Aramis greeted, dressed in his down attire, running his hand along Athos’ cheek. He regarded d’Artagnan and Porthos with a mere glance, “They seem happier than usual.”

Athos could almost feel the flower burning in his bag to be released, he wanted to see that same look of happiness grace Aramis’ elegant features, but for some reason, Athos chose to wait it out for a better moment.

The moon was high in the sky when both Athos and Aramis calmed down from the throes of passion, breathing into each other’s mouths for balance, Aramis’ hands were scratching down the length of Athos’ back, basking in the feeling of being filled by his alpha. Athos nipped at the one, true sign that Aramis was his and his alone, the mating gland between his shoulder and neck.

Eventually, the mated couple were surrounded by each other, Athos had his arms around Aramis’ neck and waist, and they were laying in the silence. Athos felt like this was the right and only time.

He was naturally attuned to Aramis’ heartbeat and from the sound, he knew that his mate was not yet asleep and so he slipped from his side on the bed and ignoring Aramis’ muffled complaints, Athos untied the knot on his bag and took out the gladiolus, watching it in all its beauty in the moonlight.

They were sitting up in their bed, naked but comfortable as Aramis rotated the flower in his hand, weighing it in his palm as he was coming up with a reply to Athos’ sudden affection.

He almost wanted to laugh, Athos, the Alpha that everyone believed could rival death in competition and still win. Even Aramis couldn’t fathom Athos going this soft, and not that he had minded, it was just part of his personality, and though yes, he may never be as doting or kind as Porthos, but neither was Aramid as innocent or motivated as d’Artagnan. They’ve learned to deal with the other’s faults, and the interactions that most mated couples went through, Aramis had accepted that, it would never be them. No grand gestures, no indulging, no domesticity.

But Aramis was so touched at the initiative, and his love for Athos grew considerably larger, not that Aramis could have thought that even possible.

“What do you think?” Athos mumbled, as if almost afraid of how Aramis would react and Aramis almost couldn’t stop himself from smacking his Alpha silly for thinking he would act any other way other than grateful.

“Perhaps you’ve actually outdone the romantic...this is so…old fashioned.” Aramis chuckled, kissing Athos’ neck in gratitude. “It’s wonderful.”

“Uh, Élise called it a gladiolus.”

“Ou, what does it mean?” Aramis’ brown eyes gazing up into Athos’ made his heart most certainly skip a beat and Athos had to blink away his clouded thoughts, clearing his throat. “You should do this more often.”

Athos bit the inside of his cheek, for some reason, that comment hurt more than his sweet mate would ever realize. “She claimed that it meant strength and honor, faithfulness and that I am hopelessly infatuated with everything about you. It’s difficult to explain how in love I am with you, but this weed would not even begin to scratch the surface. No flower Élise could ever find, or any piece of flora in this whole damned world could be sufficient enough to show how much my heart yearns to be by your side.”

Aramis didn’t notice his finger had cut into one of the sharp thorns until his finger started to burn, yet he paid it no attention, besides, love was painful as it is good.

“I remember the terrifying, rambling Musketeer who had ask to court me two years ago, now I have a poet in my bed.” Aramis dropped the flower to floor when the scent of his blood entered Athos’ nose, his Alpha’s rough, permanently stained thumb ran over his wound. But Aramis tilted his head up with his palm, wanting to stare his mate in his vibrant blue eyes. “Thank you Athos. It’s the best thing I’ve received in a long time, even more so that it came from you. I love this, and you.”

Athos put Aramis’ index finger to his lips, sucking the small amount of blood from the wound.

After a while, sleep refused to find them as they cuddled in the middle of their small bed, Athos was meaning to get them a larger one, but the opportunity never came about. Aramis had the flower in-between his fingertips, twisting the gorgeous flower in the moonlight and Athos discovered that he was a bit annoyed, that Aramis was almost becoming obsessed with the useless thing. He was happy yes that Aramis was delighted at his gesture, but he was also hoping for his mate’s attention to be diverted towards him in some sort of gratitude. It was selfish and greedy of him of course, but Athos was pathetic, he’ll admit it.

“It’s so strange how this plant could have so much meaning, or any plant for that matter.” Athos just grumbled, disappointed but he just continued to watch Aramis twirl the flower. “A simple rose wouldn’t have been too bad either, you know.”

“Love, you’re everything but simple.”


	2. Chilly Parisian Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While walking from the gardens to their quarters, Athos gives Aramis his coat for warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Thank you for the wonderful comments! I hope you enjoy this sweet fluff as much as I did!

Aramis’ horrible teeth chattering against the brisk cold wind as he and Athos stepped out from the large garden near the palace gave Athos a reason for internal amusement. Aramis had insisted that they should take a stride to the gardens, perhaps have a drink of wine and watch the sun setting behind the city in a way to enjoy their day relieve from duty together.

At first Athos had just wanted to rest until dawn because Porthos and he had just arrived from Normandy with Treville, in order to discuss important matters on border lines and basic production means of a currently high-valued city, Burgundy. Aramis was to return to palace guard tomorrow whilst Athos had the leisure to rest for two more days, and so, with that in mind (and much begging, so much begging), he accepted the offer begrudgingly.

Now, Aramis was freezing, deciding to deliberately forget to bring his coat with him along their stroll and as the day grew to early evening, the Paris chill was settling in. “We haven’t even finished the first bottle of wine.” Athos jokes while Aramis is rubbing at his linen cotton sleeves for warmth.

“This is genuinely not the time to administer more humiliation to the fact that I, mind you Athos, may freeze to death before I reach our quarters.” Aramis grumbles. “I mean, who could have predicted this monstrosity?”

Athos shrugged, hand securely wrapped around the hilt of his rapier, “I perhaps can give you an answer to that foolish question, maybe because it’s currently winter Aramis, in Paris.” Athos rolls his eyes at Aramis’ feigned whimper in response.

“But it was just Fall the day before, surprisingly a particular hot day in such a backwards season.”

“Well for that, I can give no proper explanation, but I did remind you to bring your coat. Look, perhaps you should have glanced outside our window to see that even the beggars and whores have taken my advice.”

Aramis releases a deep, gutted sigh, unable to bring himself to admit that Athos had been right willingly without that terrible feeling of unsettling defeat, “Alright, alright, point is proven.”

Athos’ lip twitches in reply, an almost smile, but he is already untying his sword belt and unfastening the buttons of his own coat, and places the oversized material that almost engulfs the Omega’s whole upper half. At least, he is surround by warmth and the smell of gunpowder and sweet Burgundy wine.

Aramis looks at Athos with gracious admiration, “You didn’t have to go on and do that, we aren’t so far from the garrison.”

Athos reassures Aramis in the most Athos way possible, “Quiet or I may rethink my decision.” But it was all in good jest.

Aramis smiles softly to himself, and he goes to rest his head under Athos’ chin and with this gesture, Athos can’t help but wrap his arm around him and kiss the top of his head in silent affection. Despite Athos now being cold in Aramis’ place, it barely fazed him until they reached the gates of the garrison.

Porthos and d’Artagnan were settling the horses for the night in the stables, before Porthos had peeked his head out to glance at the two arrivals. They could have gone through without notice if it wasn’t for the way Athos’ shivers were growing louder and louder.

Porthos gives a bellowed laugh, before removing his dusty hat and giving it a flamboyant flip of a greeting, “Chilly is it today, Monsieur?”

Let’s just say, Athos’ retort in crude French brings more laughs and a very faint blush to Aramis’ cheeks.


	3. César and Emma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aramis' horse falls ill and Athos takes it upon himself to find the proper medicine to cure him. Athos also meets a young girl and the idea of a family enters Athos' mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long for an update, I literally just didn't open my computer to write xD

Athos wakes up to find the bed cold once again, the sheets beside him are ruffled and he can only imagine the restlessness that transpired last night.

He had dragged Aramis to bed that night, his mate rendered to a stone faced man with no hope or emotion harbored in his usually vibrant eyes, they were similar to sinkholes, vacant and deep. Athos had tried fruitlessly to make him eat something but Aramis refused to give focus to anything but the window that gave slight view of the stables. His thoughts were so occupied on César, his chestnut horse, that Aramis barely saw the motivation to enact on his responsibilities or tend to his vital needs without Athos' supervision.

In Athos’ mind, it was just a horse which luckily, was an animal that was easily replaceable. Treville could have another horse supplied to Aramis in a week’s time, but to Aramis, César meant so much more.

A best friend, a fellow comrade.

When Athos is dressed, weaponless except for a small dagger, he walks to the stable with ease. None of the musketeers are wake this early, the sun just barely hitting the horizon. He opens the large door and aims towards where Aramis’ horse is usually stationed and he is greeted to the sight of Aramis, only in his uniform pants and undershirt with his doublet nowhere in sight, resting his head upon César’s chest which is covered in a blanket, a cold mist escaping both of them.

_Oh, he covers the horse but doesn’t give a damn if he freezes?_

Athos sighs, walking away only to return with two thick blankets that he lays out on top of Aramis to keep him warm from the morning chill. The second comforter, Athos wraps around himself, sitting on a stool and slowly letting himself lull back into sleep. When the sun is poking through the cracks of the wood and Athos blinks himself out of temporary darkness, he feels a head against his leg and he looks down to see Aramis, awake but his mind is far from himself.

At least, that is what Athos believes until he is proven wrong and Aramis begins to speak with a croaky voice, “You left your bed? Why?”

Athos swallows before answering, his throat in dire want of a drink, “Our bed just isn’t the same without you in it.”

Aramis stares at César with a pained expression, “Do you think he’s going to die?”

Athos wonders if it’s his mate’s natural empathetic instincts that causes him to fall so hard into these harsh episodes of grief. To become nothing more than a shell.

It has crossed Athos’ mind more frequently than it should of the possibility of him losing his life in battle, how would Aramis fair. He had witnessed situations where an Alpha who had lost his mate to starvation, drove himself to madness with grief and psychotic coping mechanisms to refill the hole his mate left behind. He knew an omega in their village near his father’s estates, who had become comatose, still, as if their soul had left yet only a small part remained to keep the heart beating for some unnatural paradoxical reason, it was hardly called a life but their suffering was brief.

The soul is bonded when two people decide to join as one, and when that bond is severed, death is a mercy that they would crave with whatever hope they had left behind.

Athos can’t refrain himself from looking to watch the middle-aged horse struggle for breath, his eyes glazing over in sickness. “You have to face reality one way or another Aramis.”

Aramis gazes up at him, his eyes blood shot and dark, “How can I say goodbye to a friend that has been with me since the beginning of my commission? He’s was my first real companion, the only one I could have trusted wholeheartedly, and…and I just cannot let him go so easily.”

Before Athos could reply, they both heard a shout from the courtyard, “Athos! Aramis!” It was d’Artagnan.

When they went to meet him, d’Artagnan was accompanied by a man with mature features, but still had a young tint to his face and posture. “This is Émile Moreau, Aramis, he told me that his trade is medicine among the common animals in Paris.”

Athos gave a small smirk directed towards d’Artagnan when Aramis perks up and quickly leads the doctor to the stables. “Impressive, I didn’t think there was an animal physician so close to the heart of Paris.”

D’Artagnan shrugs, “Parisians are very compliant when you speak coin.”

Athos chuckles, “Aren’t all men?” He claps d’Artagnan on the shoulder.

It wasn’t long before both men resurface from the stables and Aramis looks worse than he had this morning, his face pale and tight as if he was trying to fight tears. Émile approaches them and with what Athos fears is bad news. “I am afraid the horse will not make it by the end of this week without the proper medicine, I don’t think anyone in Paris holds the supplies necessary to cure the lung infection.” Émile looks to Athos with a very insincere expression of disappointment.

D’Artagnan sucks his teeth, “I’m sorry Aramis.” The omega goes to sit next Athos’ forlorn mate and Athos balls his fingers into a fist.

“Walk with me?” Athos invites and Émile apologizes to Aramis again which makes Athos roll his eyes but the man is following him to the entrance of the garrison.

“Oh I just wished I had the remedy your poor mate wants so wretchedly, but unfortunately I am only in Paris to see the celebrations. But surely the boy has told you there is payment in debt to me for my visit-“

Athos has his hands in Émile’s coat, snarling as he lifts the crook into the air and pushing him against the wall. “Listen well Émile. Unless you want to walk out of Paris with a head, I suggest you tell me where and who is the nearest supplier of these so called remedies now!” Athos bares his teeth, glaring daggers.

“That would require extra Monsieur-“

“No, you’re going to do this for free, like the good citizen of France you are and want to be for your own sake.”

Emile glares, defiance bubbling up in his system but Athos can smell that this beta is afraid of him, “You animal! What they say about you creatures are true! No dignity to the common man trying to make a living! Wait till the King hears about this-“

“That’s if you can still speak, that is.” Athos can almost see the gears rolling in Émile’s head.

“Okay...alright I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

\----

There is a flu going around Paris, Athos could barely ride a mile without hearing a violent sneeze or a wheezing cough. But he is on his way to Goddard, who resides on the outskirts of Paris. Athos can almost feel the list burning in his pocket, the importance of it is something that Athos may never comprehend unless it involved Aramis’ health in particular. But Aramis’ happiness means the world, and if this list can achieve its purpose, then he would travel to the ends of the earth in search for this Goddard.

But a small Parisian kid watches Athos on top of his horse, standing in front of his path with a doll in her tiny hands, her blue eyes gazing up curiously, but he can see the tears in her eyes and it all seems too familiar and so it compels Athos to confront the child.

“What is the matter?” Athos jumped off his horse to kneel in front the young girl, removing his hat to seem less terrifying to her wide-eyed gaze.

“My mother, she was selling fruit at the market but now I cannot find her.” The child is trying to seem brave but it doesn’t stop the tears from falling.

“What is your name?”

“Emma.” Emma wipes at her cheek with the back of her palm, and she is starting to choke on her panic.

“Shh Emma, you’re a brave girl for staying here so long by yourself. We’ll find your mother, don’t worry.” Athos speaks soothingly and takes Emma’s hand, and the three of them, Athos, Emma, and Roger the horse go on the search for Emma’s mother.

“Are you a musketeer?” Emma mispronounces the word ‘Musketeer’ but Athos doesn’t pay it any attention.

“Yes, I am.”

Emma smiles, “I’ve never met a musketeer before, what is your name? Are there others like you around?”

Athos was never accustomed with children, never really grown a liking for their innocence, frustrating dependence and very inquisitive nature. He remembers when he used to be so curious that being on the other side of his father’s lash was but a common occurrence, but he had learned to put away childish things at a very young age, yet he is taken by Emma’s curiosity.

“How incredibly rude of me, mind you Musketeers are not usually this ill-mannered. My name is Athos. And there are many musketeers under the king’s rule, we are King Louis' most trusted body of men.”

Emma laughs, but she states her question in awe, “Have you met the King? Oh and the queen?”

“Many times, Mademoiselle.”

“Is she beautiful?”

Athos sighs, but he takes Emma’s boundless questions with subtly, “Very much so, yes.”

It doesn’t take long before they find the tall, slender, brown haired woman rather quickly from Emma’s detailed description. Emma runs from Athos to her mother, who is walking unnervingly fast from a man who Athos believes had just finished paying the woman for intimate services.

Emma’s mother is engulfed by small arms and Athos realized that in the child’s rush that she dropped her worn doll, which was missing one eye and the feathers are poking out from the thin threading. “Mommy! Mommy! I met a musketeer! His name is Athos and he brought me back to you!”

Athos is walking towards the pair, doll in hand and Emma laughs and reaches her hand out for the doll before she is pulled back by her mother. “Don’t touch her you savage!” She hisses, realizing that Athos was indeed an alpha male.

From the corner of his eye he can see two men of the Red Guard walk onto the empty street. The woman almost looked ready to holler, but Athos bows his head and shows her a bag of his only coin, the coin he was expecting to pay Goddard with.

“Please, accept this bag of coin to help with anything you might need.” Athos hides the relief that he feels when the woman slowly takes the pouch from his hand, she can see that Athos understands through his knowing gaze. “I had met Emma on the road earlier and I couldn’t just let her wander aimlessly in the middle of Paris.” Athos hands Emma the doll and she smiles, before hugging Athos’ leg in farewell graciousness.

“Goodbye Musketeer!” Athos nods in his way of a curt goodbye.

The mother hurriedly pulls Emma back and she swallows before genuinely saying, “Thank you, Monsieur Athos.”

“Madam.” They hurry off into the afternoon, never to cross paths again.

Athos sits upon his horse, wondering if the ride to Goddard was worth it since he is now absent coin but the two men in passing, with their hideous capes and their cruel glares towards Athos and his obvious status, it gives Athos an idea.

\-----

Athos makes it back to the garrison with little light left to spare, the small bag of ingredients on his side has Athos hopeful, severely hopeful.

Everyone is at dinner excluding Aramis, which Athos had suspected and so he dashes straight towards the stables after giving the reins to the stable boy. Athos walks in to see Aramis thankfully having shaven and bathed, and looking a bit more refreshed. But he still has the tiresome look of fear and despair on his face. Athos greets him from behind, wrapping his arms around his waist to kiss his neck, but Aramis is clearly not in the mood when he tries to pull Athos’ hands from his body. But he only tightens his grip.

“Please Athos, not now-“

“Is that any way to treat the man who has brought the medicine needed for your dreaded horse?”

Aramis’ features immediately brighten up as he turns around in Athos’ arms, “Where?” He enthuses.

“Well first I want a kiss.” Athos smirks, but frowns when Aramis pecks him on the mouth. “A real kiss.”

It had been a good few days since Aramis’ lips have graced his, and when their lips really touch and interlock, it is almost like breathing life back into his depraved mind, body, and soul. Aramis feels peace, knocking Athos’ hat off his head as he wrap his hands around his alpha’s cheeks. Their flesh rises in goosebumps, and a certain love settles between them. The awe and raw emotion in the movement of Aramis’ lips are futile to Athos’ heart, the steady beat becoming erratic.

He can already feel his cock hardening as blood pumps furiously through his bloodstream, his body naturally reacting to the sheer presence of his mate gives off. Aramis feels a warm wetness on his lower half, his hormones already reacting towards his alpha’s want, the tight hold on his waist is pertaining to the aggressive way Athos is telling Aramis that he wants him now. The beast inside Athos is leaking with the need to be close after the long absence of not having his mate’s rejuvenating force of the bond reconnected. He wanted to be sheathed inside him, he wanted his knot inside of Aramis as soon as they could hit the floor of the stable, the location of where they are is not even relevant.

But Aramis has to stop it somewhere before they lose focus on the matter at hand, and he sure wasn’t going to have Athos make love to him in front of his horse. He at least had some dignity, though a blanket over the eyes would do just fine.

“Where is it?” Aramis asks, breathless and Athos is in such a daze that he cocks his head to the side, unable to understand what Aramis was saying. “Where is the medicine?”

“In the messenger bag.” Athos had placed it on the stool next to the door before he went to greet Aramis, and so Aramis walks towards it, opening up the small satchel and pulls out the herbs and things needed to make the concoction.

That night, when Aramis finally relaxes into the bed for the first time in a while, Athos is on top of him, both of them fully unclothed, but before they could go any further, Aramis kisses Athos once more.

“Thank you so much, for everything Athos. You thought César was just a horse but you were kind enough to help me save him, I can't think of anything more considerate.” Aramis smiles adoringly, whispering into Athos’ mouth, letting the soft stroke of his alpha’s beard run across his nose and cheek and he wants to smell more of his scent. Lazily, does Aramis hold Athos’ knot between them, lightly stroking the foreskin.

But strangely the stray thought of Emma runs through his mind as his memories of today courses through him. And he has a very important question to ask Aramis. “Mate, one day, I think I can imagine us settling down-“Athos opens his closed eyes to stare into Aramis’ widening gaze. “in the country, growing old in the hills with our pup’s children by our side. Is that something you would want?

“I’ve always wanted pups of our own, but it’s impossible, we're soldiers-“

“But our lives are still ours, we can still choose how we want to live, Aramis. This is not **_it_** for us.” Athos mutters, letting Aramis run his thumb along his chin.

Aramis is seriously contemplating it, wondering what their children's names will be, how Athos would look out in the fields tilling the land, how he would be with the pups in the morning and how he’ll tuck them in at night, how Athos’ over protectiveness will smother them all but they’ll still love him for it. How much Aramis will love to wake up to the sight of Athos, naked and blissfully exhausted, where the sounds of outside aren’t men and clattering swords but birds and the laughter of their young in the other room. Could Aramis see himself pupped? Could he even handle the responsibility?

Duty and killing came easy to him, but will raising a family be beyond his capabilities?

“I just don’t want to fail you.” Aramis looks away from Athos’ sudden anger, but his alpha’s hand is forcing him to look back at him.

“There’s no such thing as failing me when it comes to us Aramis. If I didn’t love your faults and ability to fail, then I wouldn’t be here with you, by your side, with my mark on your neck. I am no different than you Aramis, I can’t say I am any better than you because it isn’t worldly possible. In my eyes, you’re the best thing to ever happen to me, and spending forever with you in your arms, to have a family with you, would be an honor that’s **_mine_** alone. Do you understand?” Athos says with determination for Aramis to listen to his words and for it to sink in deep.

“Yes, I understand entirely.” Aramis’ smirks, but Athos kisses it till it turns into playfulness. Athos pecking Aramis' cheeks, to forehead, to his chest.

“I love you.” Athos mutters against Aramis’ cheek, and his mate releases a sigh of happiness and adoration underneath him. “Always.”

In the morning, Aramis is dragging Athos along, who is tired but fine with just following his omega around for a while, to the stable and they see César huffing and as healthy as a horse could be. But then Athos and Aramis both sneeze in sync and Athos gives a groan of disappointment.

Somehow, both Musketeers caught the Paris flu and it was all Athos’ fault.

But Aramis is pleased, and because of this, Athos is also pleased.


	4. The Witch part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athos' behavior has been very strange lately, for reasons the Musketeers have yet to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not so fluffy, I'm extremely sorry, but I couldn't resist! :'(

“And finally, you four are to report to the palace to guard over the Majesty’s ballroom party this evening, and don’t worry for etiquette, the King will provide the proper guarding attire.” Treville sighed, dipping his quill into the glass of ink to finish the last sentence of his letter, the candle already burning to melt his spoon filled with red wax. “Any questions?”

“Just one, what is the occasion?” Athos asks.

“It’s the King’s birthday.”

Aramis looked to Athos in a sideways glance, practically shaking at the knowledge that they were to oversee a grand event filled with pompous beta males and their wives, the wigs and frivolous colors and all the things Aramis hated rolled into one night. “Well gentlemen, I had given it some serious thought and I have come to the decision that I will be ill tonight. My sincerest apologizes but it seems that you three will have to be on your own.” As he was backing away, Aramis shrugged at the annoyed look Athos had thrown his way, but unfortunately, by not escaping fast enough, both Porthos and Athos grab him by the arm to pull him back into the semi-circle.

“Oh no you’re not, d’Artagnan and I will not be left to guard the palace ourselves.”

“But Porthos my dear friend, Athos will be accompanying the both of you-“

D’Artagnan joins his mate by cocking his head, “Aramis, we all know Athos will come up with an excuse just so you aren’t alone all night.”

Treville drops the hot wax onto the envelope, taking out his signature stamp from his draw to leave his mark into the quickly drying heap. “They are both correct Aramis, no fighting your way out of this, I need my four best men to make a good example of tonight.” Treville says, his tone representing a man that is completely finished with the childish antics of full grown men. “Here Athos, take this letter to the king when you arrive, it contains very important information about our monthly inventory for the garrison.”

Athos gives a quick nod of his head before Treville dismisses all of them to their duties and Aramis is slightly pouting underneath the shadow of his hat. “Why must you make things so difficult Aramis?” Athos mutters to his mate, his hand no longer gripping Aramis’ arm but his fingers are searching for Aramis’ hand and when they find it, their hands instinctively wrap around each other.

“I’m just not too fond of such large, lavish events, is all.”

Porthos laughs behind them as they walk down the steps from Treville’s office, “I always thought you to be one to enjoy the lavish side of things.” Porthos wraps an arm around d’Artagnan’s neck, kissing the side of his mate’s head. “Besides, what are you so worried about? You’ll enjoy yourself.”

Aramis sighs, frowning slightly, “Maybe.”

Athos makes an abrupt stop to address Aramis’ sudden shift of emotion with a compromise, “Look, if you are unable to withstand tonight, I will ask Treville to give you the night off-“

“Oh that’s hardly fair! When Aramis wanted to pull an excuse you were against it, now you’re all for it?” d’Artagnan whines in jest, yet it doesn’t occur to Athos as a joke or minor teasing, and the glare and sudden pull back of his lip to expose his teeth in a snarl, Porthos puts his hand around d’Artagnan’s mouth to prevent the now trembling Omega from digging himself a deeper grave.

“He didn’t mean it in that way Athos.” Porthos defends.

As an extremely young man who was not particularly experienced on how Alpha-Omega dynamics work, d’Artagnan didn’t understand that when an Alpha was consulting his mate in distress, it was best to divert from the situation. Everything felt like a threat when an Alpha could almost taste that his mate is fearful, and perhaps in a different time, a different place and with different people, without Porthos’ protection, d’Artagnan could have likely been killed for trying to ‘interfere’.

Aramis is flustered with embarrassment, especially when their fellow comrades are watching the quickly heated scene with interest. “Back off Athos.” Aramis retorted and Athos grimaces, losing his defensive stance.

Aramis brushes off Athos’ hand in a harsh manner and walks over to d’Artagnan, when Porthos releases his grip on him. “Come d’Artagnan, we have to escort Count de Viguerie and his wife to the palace before tonight.” The two omegas make a quick dash to the stables to gather their horses, and Athos is trailing behind Aramis.

“Aramis wait-“It’s the sound of Aramis’ hiss of a hazardous warning that makes Athos lose any thoughts on trying to rectify his wrongs. This also stops him from following Aramis and d’Artagnan into the barn and when both omegas leave; they don’t acknowledge the confused Alpha. Even though Athos is stalking Aramis with his eyes, his mate refuses to look back at him.

~*~*~*~*~

Having retrieved the Count and his wife from the commune Montlhery, Aramis and d’Artagnan ride in silence, before Aramis breaks the turbulent waters. “Perhaps I was bit too harsh with him.”

D’Artagnan looks away from his canteen, wiping his mouth free of stray droplets, “I don’t know…I feel as if this was all my fault.”

Aramis scoffs, “d’Artagnan you merely spoke your mind, like everyone does, and in jest no less.”

“I spoke too impulsively, I should have shown more respect especially when the ball seemed to upset you.” He runs a tired hand over his eyes and watches the sun peeking through the treetops. “Now I’ll be stuck in a room full of people with him for a whole night, I can practically feel the tension from Paris.”

Aramis breathily laughs, clutching the reins tighter in his hands, “Well, at least you won’t be the only one. I just…Athos knows how to control his anger better than this, he looked so ready to pounce on you over such innocent babble.”

“Yes, but who says Athos isn’t allowed to lose control when it concerns you?”

This causes Aramis to pause, of course, spats between couples, especially in their case, were sometimes overdramatic; but as an omega who has been independent for many years before he had even known of Athos, his mate’s overprotective nature brings out the natural rebellious side of him. Perhaps it was because d’Artagnan was the youngest of the pack, that his omega tendencies to harbor the youth and the defenseless, to care, to nurture--it was instinctively yanked from him at the worst of times. There was a possibility that he may have overreacted and the best solution was to have spoken to his alpha before he stormed away, but Athos was equally at fault.

“It was hardly serious, barely a threat of any kind yet he treated you as if you were some vulgar, idiotic stranger on the road. I just felt ashamed of him for that brevity.”

D’Artagnan frowned deeply, “Don’t say that Aramis.”

Aramis bites on the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something that he’ll regret. Angry emotions are swirling around in his head and it makes him squeeze the reins tighter, “I don’t know how to explain to you how uncomfortable it makes me feel. One of the traits that drew me to Athos was his calm judgement, his maturity to not act like an uncut alpha who is overbearingly selfishly for all things. If you hadn’t known, that’s why Alphas have such a reputation, they act more like animals fighting over a bone in the streets preferably than acting civil, they’re very territorial. And Athos has been acting more like this than I’ve ever seen him before.”

“What do you mean?”

Aramis pauses, hearing the particularly loud noises emitting from the carriage, satisfied that the nobles cannot over hear his words. “I haven’t raised the subject because I never wanted your view of Athos to become negative. But ever since last month, Athos has been on edge more than ever, everything he hears or sees sets him off on a mindless rampage. We were drinking in a tavern close by the Red Guard’s quarters and a few men wondered in off-duty and we shared a few insults absent-mindedly, like usual, but Athos stood up and broke one man’s nose and another’s jaw. It took much persuasion to get Treville not to punish Athos too harshly, and just a few days later, a commoner was a bit too close in speaking with me on Athos’ terms and Athos shoved him into a merchant’s table!”

D’Artagnan raised his brow in shock, “That doesn’t sound much like Athos…”

“Don’t even let me begin on how Athos almost killed an Alpha because he was just mildly interested, he barely managed a few words before Athos was almost choking him to death!”

D’Artagnan was silent as they rode on for a few more minutes, before he asked, “Is this why you wish not to guard the palace tonight? You fear that Athos may hurt someone because of you?”

Aramis lowers his eyes, “Partly.”

“What else is the matter?”

“It’s a very long story and I think I’ve spoken enough for the afternoon already.”

D’Artagnan’s concern peaked within him, causing him to gently rest his hand on Aramis’ arm, in efforts to show that Aramis can speak with him about anything. Their pack bond, made Aramis’ spirits relax and this made him more willing to speak, but when d’Artagnan hears the demons of Aramis’ past and current situation with his mate, Aramis makes him promise to not speak of it to anyone, especially Athos. This causes him to grow wearier with dread as the afternoon turns to early evening and Paris is within sights of the two Musketeers.

~*~*~

The candle is burning with a low fire as d’Artagnan dresses in a languid motion, bringing Porthos to his side in immediate concern. “The matter with you?” Porthos asks, engulfing d’Artagnan’s small frame in a shadow with his large and broad body, as he towers over his mate standing in front of a nice sized mirror in the corner of their room.

D’Artagnan doesn’t respond and in turn Porthos looks into d’Artagnan’s eyes which downcast when they connect through the mirror’s surface. “Forget about what happened today, Athos is pack. He just acted without thinking, don’t let this change anything between the both of you.” Porthos pulls a piece of d’Artagnan’s hair back, kissing his neck, and d’Artagnan sighs. The weight of the secret was too much not to tell Porthos, afraid that he would make his mate furious for keeping this from him for Aramis’ sake. Porthos never liked secrets, making it known more than enough that it truly hurt him when the people he trusted most in this world would keep him in the dark.

What if something were too happened because of this secret and Porthos was going to resent him for it? Or worse, what if something happened and it could have been prevented if d’Artagnan just told?

But Aramis’ distinction was right, “If Porthos knows something, the first one he would go running to tell is Athos.”

D’Artagnan knew that this was Aramis’ secret to tell, and it would be much worse if Athos were to know before Aramis was ready to explain everything. He couldn’t betray his trust, no matter how much it hurt not to tell Porthos.

~*~*~*~*~

The palace was in a state of jovial gatherings, people of all aristocratic nature hailing from every crevice of France, even some foreign-born elites, were engaging with each other in a respectable fashion. One could have sworn that every person in that room knew one another beforehand, with how they spoke in a sense of familiarity. Women were discussing the latest style from hair to the intricate design in their heels, whilst men spoke of diplomatic achievements and goals and their connection with King Louis.

The dresses were extravagant, in different colors of red, white, black, and blue, it all seemed like a swirl of a paint filled brush, each stroke creating a vivid picture of new exotic pigments. The satin drapes that hung over the large cream windows, were a prominent white in the sea of colors, and the wind made it dance over the spectacle of the night’s audience.

Music was lightly strummed from different brass families and violas, the orchestra consisted of opera contributors and the voices that sounded much like angelic hymns made each patron twist and angle their bodies in small movements, bobbing softly with the feel of the music.

The chandeliers twinkle like captured stars from the night sky adorning the roofs of the palace ballroom and added to the great lull of the atmosphere. Everything about this night was enchanted and swiftly protected for the time being, and the ease of the room made Aramis relax and fade with his thoughts and women and men still enter from the entrance of the palace, their chauffeurs riding their carriages quickly away into the dark.

Bayard and Aramis both were greeting the newly arrived guests, their brooches and specific bowties were indications of their invitation, red bowties and rose brooches streamed in like pinkish rivers.

The Musketeers themselves were all dressed in jackets of black, with white embroidery, their boots a very dark orange which was on the verge of becoming a smooth brown. Their splash of red was their fleur-de-lis on their shoulders, a representation to all nobles that they were the famous guards of the king and his kingdom, in a flashing statement.

People were interested in speaking with the legendary regiment, most conversations now holding on the physique and strength of these soldiers. Betas speaking of stories and tales they heard of the rigorous training it took to rid the Alphas of their ugly and uncivilized natures and omegas of their whoring ways. Many laughed at the thought of omegas becoming soldiers, dismissing the idea that the King would allow anymore of the weakest and most useless sex in his fighting league of men, unless they were paid holes for their alphas to fuck. All of it made Aramis sick to his stomach.

Servants ran around, bowing and smiling at guests in order from them to feel more welcomed as they waited for the King and Queen’s arrival.

As the flood guests seemed to be dying down, Athos, who was across the room overseeing the party on the balcony of the ballroom, saw this as an opportunity to give his apologizes to Aramis. He was watching his mate, watching him greet and smile, accepting the touches and awes as betas circled around him with bustling questions. It took everything in him not to come bearing down with the sudden fury he felt building in the very pits of his soul.

H was earnestly trying to prove himself to his love, trying to be a better man than the one he has been this past month. Having to endure the constant lifeless attitude of Aramis whenever he happened to be in his presence. What happened earlier today was just another show Athos’ recent antics, his lack of control, his stupidity.

The worst thing that could come from this is that he could lose Aramis forever, knowing Aramis held onto his righteous values and composure, and whilst he was a man who loved violence, he only used it when it was necessary and to say the least, Athos’ attitude of attack first and ask questions later was beginning to get on Aramis’ nerves. Aramis never lashed out at him in such a manner as today during the course of their relationship, and the last thing Athos would ever want is for Aramis to shun him or walk out of his life if he doesn’t take better care of his impulses. What if Aramis was afraid of him?

Athos feet abruptly, with a mind of their own, took him from his post and Porthos glanced at him in slight confusion as Athos walked down the porcelain steps and candle lit walkways to Aramis’ general direction. From d’Artagnan’s post on the ground floor, he saw Athos pass him with the intentions of meeting with Aramis and with elevated concerns that Athos may cause a scene, he tried to go after him but with a nagging pull on his mating mark, he looked up from the crowd to Porthos, who was willing d’Artagnan with his eyes not to follow the Alpha. That it this affair was between Athos and Aramis and that they’ll intervene when necessary.

Treville was going to have a fit if they let the Majesty’s party fall to disaster because of his soldier’s ‘domestic problems’.

D’Artagnan had a bad feeling about this, and he suddenly wished Porthos knew about Athos’ recent rampages. But d’Artagnan trusted Aramis on a night like this, to keep everything under control.

As Bayard and Aramis were closing the palace doors, Athos appears in glory behind Aramis which makes him freeze beside Bayard. Athos doesn’t even acknowledge Bayard when he greets him, bowing and saying his name with respect, Aramis dismisses him with a smile, “I’ll take it from here Bayard.”

Bayard, the recruit, walks off into the crowd and Athos pulls Aramis to the empty hallways, where the party was still in hearing distance. Athos runs a gloved finger down the curve of Aramis’ face, gently trying to ease Aramis’ sudden nerves.

“Why won’t speak to me Aramis?”

Aramis lets out a breath, “The question is why you act like you no longer hold any sense?” Aramis dark eyes merge into the deepening blue, the remark hurts Athos’ confidence.

“I…don’t know. When I feel like your threatened in my general vicinity, I'm just consumed by such an unbearable rage inside me that I can’t seem to control.”

Aramis’ eyes search for the truth, search for the reassurance and even though he knows in the truest of hearts, Athos would never lie to him, his excuse doesn’t make Aramis feel any less of the churning that is in his heart.

“It frightens me, when you revert into that Alpha complex, and I can’t even shake you from it.”

“I know Aramis—“

“I don’t think you really understand what I’m saying, you almost killed a man because he tried speaking to me Athos—“

He slammed his fist against the wall beside Aramis’ face and Aramis doesn’t flinch, “I know what I’ve done! And then I just don’t know why and I…”

Aramis feels a distaste roaming in his mouth but he’s trying to keep his cool, “We’ll discuss this later, when you’re not so flustered.”

“Don’t tell me what I am!” Athos growls, pupils becoming full blown, wrapping his large hands around Aramis’ neck, making Aramis gasp in fear.

“Athos…please.” Aramis is fighting for breath as Athos tightens his hold.

“You were the last person I expected to judge me!”

“Aramis!” Aramis hears his name and he sees d’Artagnan from the corner of his eyes, and a new found urge to fight hard against Athos emerged. “Athos, let him go! Have you lost your mind?” d’Artagnan tries to pull Athos away from killing his own mate with his omega strength but it’s no use against Athos’ brute power, and he shoves d’Artagnan backwards, making him fly into the opposite wall and hitting his head against a glass vase and the edge of the side table in the hallway, knocking him unconscious.

~*~*~*~*~

D’Artagnan feels a growing lump of worry rising in his throat as he sees Athos pulling Aramis from the room, and for the first time since he’s joined the Musketeers, did he fear his most admirable mentor in the regiment. He trusted Athos with his life and more, but he couldn’t shake the terror that made d’Artagnan’s whole frame tremble.

Aramis couldn’t see what he was seeing, ever since he revealed Athos’ behavior to him, he could see the difference now, how Athos almost walked like a man possessed, a man with the intent to kill.

D’Artagnan looked up at Porthos again and despite the shake of his mate’s head that he shouldn’t follow, the moment that d’Artagnan started shoving through the crowd to intervene causes Porthos to burst from his spot on the balcony in frantic. His sword his beating against his leg as he briskly walks down the stairs in order to not raise panic within the guests.

But Porthos bumps into a familiar shape of an old woman, who looks onto Porthos with cheer. “Monsieur Porthos, what a wonder it is to see you here!”

“Madame Élise?” Porthos utters in uncertainty, “You received an invitation to the King’s ball?” Élise was an old beggar, a beggar who made a small living selling weeds. Her presence was supposed to be forbidden, she was supposed to be denied entrance.

“Why yes I received an invitation, I belong among these people.”

Porthos has no time nor the willpower to acknowledge her words when he feels a sudden pain in his chest, his mating mark throbbing with agony. He doesn’t wish her good day when he rushes through the crowd, women yelling in fright when Porthos pushes past them and men who try to prevent him from his path get shoved back.

The music abruptly stops and Red Guards and fellow comrades are trying to assess the growing panic in the room. But when Porthos opens the door to the hallway, people are seeping through behind him and the sight that Porthos sees causes him to see red.

D’Artagnan’s limp body against the wall, his crimson blood staining the creamy surface, Porthos cannot fathom any of his thoughts except for the ones that tell him to kill. Aramis sees black circles at the edge of his vision, and the sharp pain of Athos’ nails digging into the flesh of his neck doesn’t faze him as deeply as the blank look in Athos’ eyes, as if it wasn’t his Alpha that was looking back at him. Like Athos wasn’t in there.

But the circles dissipate when Athos is grabbed by his collar and a fight ensues between two dominant sexes, Aramis disabled to protect or to defend. Yelling and punches being thrown are all he hears.

Yet the last thing he sees is a figure that stood out from the rest of the crowd, with grey long hair and nimble fingers, equipped with a scowl on her face as everything fades to black.


End file.
